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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28018785">War of Hearts</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/cat_whiskers/pseuds/cat_whiskers'>cat_whiskers</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Xenoblade Chronicles 2 (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Childhood Friends, Arranged Marriage, Eventual Mòraghid and Panzeke, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Friendship, Growing Up, Internalised Homophobia, Mòrag Zeke best bros, Mòrag is her true lesbian self, Romance, Self-Discovery, Slow Burn, Zeke is very oblivious to the gay but he will be a good ally I promise</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 21:47:06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>10,425</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28018785</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/cat_whiskers/pseuds/cat_whiskers</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A canon-deviation story. What if Mòrag and Zeke, as two similarly-aged royals in struggling nations, had been betrothed to one another as part of a political decision prior to the story of the game? Follow our favourite whipsword-wielding lesbian and eyepatch-wearing dumbass as they grow up under the pressure of the expectations of their two countries, adolescence and discovering oneself whilst the world is slowly collapsing. Will continue into canon and beyond.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Kagutsuchi | Brighid &amp; Meleph | Mòrag Ladair, Kagutsuchi | Brighid/Meleph | Mòrag Ladair, Zeke von Genbu &amp; Meleph | Mòrag Ladair, Zeke von Genbu/Saika | Pandoria</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>29</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. It Begins</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hello there! It has been many, many years since I have written fan fiction (life, school, university and work have all got in the way) but Mòrag as a character in particular has really resonated with me since I played Xenoblade 2 earlier in the year. As a Xenoblade-loving lesbian who had recently come to terms with being exclusively wlw, her connection to Brighid and their relationship just really struck me. Also, I have definitely read the entire Mòrag/Brighid archive many times over at this point, oops. On that note, I would like to thank yoshizora and fallenrose24 in particular - both your writings particularly inspired me to take the leap and attempt my own writing, and I have loved reading your interpretations of the characters, so thank you. </p><p>I was particularly inspired by a reddit comment I read once, which I have never been able to find since, about the idea that Mòrag recognised Zeke as they were politically engaged, and Rex questioning why this was given they were quite clearly in love with their blades, and for them to sit him down and explain how their duties superseded their personal affections. It really caught in my mind as something worth exploring, particularly as Elysium represents a combination of both duty and desire to many of the characters within the game, and I think someone like Rex may struggle to understand, when a paradise such as Elysium theoretically exists, why people feel obligated to their original duties when there is the possibility of existing in this paradise. Idk, I think it just really stuck in my mind as a concept, and I had it in my thoughts since about July, but Uni got in the way, so now here I am, finally writing this in December. I can't guarantee how frequently I can update, but I have a full plan for how this will go, although knowing me I will probably deviate slightly but eh. </p><p>Without further ado, here is the first chapter! If you enjoy, please leave kudos and a comment, it would mean a lot to me.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>When Mòrag was older, no one would ever have to wear a dress to any sort of occasion ever again, she decided. They were useless, impractical, and she hated it. “Little Lady Ladair, you must stand still whilst I do the back up or you will look ridiculous!” She knew the seamstress only meant well, really, but it seemed like the only way she could escape this torture was by wriggling her way out of it – all her complaints had pretty much gone ignored – and hope they would give up. However, as stubborn a child as she was, her battle against the unsightly buttercup dress did not seem to be going in her favour. As the bow at the back was pulled tight, she looked over at the scissors, considering how much trouble she could get in if she just cut it up right then and there. Normally, she prided herself on being perfectly behaved, but she absolutely could not abide dresses in any shape or form, and certainly not the big poofy horror she had on today. It had been a while since anyone had tried to force her into anything like this – after the last instance, where she ripped a blue dress attempting to climb a turret, much to her nanny’s frustration, it was limited only to the most important occasions.</p><p>She was vaguely aware of today being some sort of special occasion. There had been rumblings around the palace around it, and yesterday evening when she’d gone to climb the turrets once again (she’d learnt from the blue dress incident to be more sneaky about it and only go after dusk) she had seen a delegation arrive, all wrapped in furs and with a huge royal guard accompanying. She assumed it was something to do with that – by seven years old, she was used to the diplomacy meetings, having to stand and greet the visiting nations with all the formalities expected of the heir to the throne.</p><p>Or former heir, she remembered. She was only the daughter of Lord Eandraig after all – whilst her uncle, Emperor Ailean Ardanach, had adopted her years ago, she knew it was only a matter of time until she lost her right. After all, a girl, much less an adopted child, taking the throne? Tradition wouldn’t have it, and from her first arrival at the palace as the future heir, both the senate and staff members around the castle made it very clear that her time as heir was limited. And now the Emperor’s wife, Lady Eilidh, was with child. It didn’t really matter if the child was a boy or a girl – there was no way they would accept an adopted child taking the throne over a direct blood descendant – but she had a sneaking suspicion that somehow, it would be a boy. Either way, her role in life was no longer to take the throne – but she knew she had a duty to this child, her unborn sibling, and she couldn’t wait to meet them. Plus, it was kind of lonely being the only child in this huge building, especially when she wasn’t allowed to go out without at least two guards at any time.</p><p>Despite her persistent pouting, she put her shoes on and left for the ceremonial chamber with her nanny, preparing for what would no doubt be a long and boring day. Usually, she daydreamed her way through the dull speeches, although last time that had earnt her a small kick to the back of her legs from her nanny for fidgeting around. But she was expected to stand there, and smile, and look pretty. She’d much rather be out fighting, or reading one of her history books, but being a princess had its duties and she knew the importance of following them – it had been drilled to her from a young age, and she would hate to let Uncle Ailean and Auntie Eilidh down, so she would be good.</p><p>Even if it was really, really boring.</p><hr/><p>It was unusual to ever see another child at these ceremonies, but Mòrag curiously studied the boy across from her. He couldn’t be much older than her – seven, eight? – but he seemed totally disinterested in anything going on, despite his father’s repeated glares at him. He had silvery hair, which fascinated her – she’d never seen anyone like that before, especially not with blue eyes like him. Not that she could see his eyes that well – he had glasses on with thick lenses, distorting her vision of his eyes somewhat. She was thankful for having good vision – needing glasses surely wouldn’t be good for being a good fighter, right? So he must not fight. Perhaps he was lazy – she didn’t really know, but he seemed to be staring around the room. He seemed to be assessing for something – ah, and then his gaze stopped on the array of swords on the wall, alongside the painting of the two imperial blades. That was Mòrag’s favourite part of the ceremonial chamber: one day, she dreamed of having the power to wield one of the blades. She would be a driver worthy of an imperial blade, and she would use it to protect her nation, just as she had been trained to do. Aegeaon was awakened at the moment – her Uncle had him as his imperial blade – but it had been some time since Lady Brighid had been seen. She was Mòrag’s favourite to listen to stories about – her burning whipswords created this fearsome image, but rumours around the castle were that she was actually quite nice, beneath all the flames. Mòrag wished to meet her one day – she wanted to be her driver, and she was determined to do whatever it would take to fulfil her dream.</p><p>He was staring at Lady Brighid’s swords too. Maybe he was thinking the same, but Lady Brighid was an imperial heirloom – the only ones who were even permitted to try to be her driver were the members of the royal family, so there was no chance he would be able to… right? Then she noticed his hands, appearing to be holding two invisible whip swords and subtly engaging them in some sword of swordcraft. She thought he looked stupid, but then he went to seemingly merge the two invisible whipswords together, to create… a mega-whipsword-lasher thing that he started to wave around? Did he realise the whole power of Brighid’s whipswords in how they could be utilised separately, one in each hand, rather than turning it into some weird… snake sword? She saw him silently grinning to himself, clearly lost in some fantasy in his mind, and couldn’t help but let out a small giggle, before slapping her hand over her mouth, aware of the disgrace of interrupting the diplomatic conversations with childish matters. He seemed to return from his fantasy and noticed her giggling. Grinning again, he winked at her, before getting a slap on the head from who Mòrag presumed was a father.</p><p>Ah. So he was just a bit of an idiot then.</p><p>But, she supposed, there were worse things in the world than a bit of idiocy.</p><hr/><p>So, as it turned out, the boy she had written off as acting like a bit of an idiot was a fellow member of royalty, Prince Ozychlyrus Brounev Tantal, who accompanied his father, King Eulogimenos. Whilst his father came across very much the grand, kingly type, Ozychlyrus didn’t really seem anything like most royalty she met – he seemed like he would rather be anywhere but here. Still, it was nice to have someone her age around for once. They had been dismissed from the meeting, leaving the adults to talk whilst Mòrag was told to show Ozychlyrus around the palace. As soon as they were left to their own devices, under the watchful eyes of the palace guards stationed all around, Zeke turned to her and smiled.</p><p>“Hi! Princess Mòrag, right? I know they called me Ozychlyrus, but I prefer Zeke.” Mòrag grimaced at the title ‘princess’ – whilst she knew it might technically apply, she despised it: ‘lady’ was more than enough for her.</p><p>“Lady Mòrag, but you can just call me Mòrag. How old are you?”</p><p>“Eight. You?”</p><p>“Seven.”</p><p>“Cool. Do you want to see my pet?”</p><p>Mòrag stopped and gave him a disbelieving stare. “Your… pet?”</p><p>But Zeke had a conspiratorial look on his face. “Yeah, he’s awesome, but I can’t have anyone else seeing him, his awesomeness might blow their minds. Is there somewhere quiet we can go?”</p><p>Sceptical, but interested nonetheless, Mòrag thought for a second. On the one hand, she really didn’t want to get in trouble, especially with foreign dignitaries here and who knows what kind of deals going on in the chamber. On the other hand, she really, really wanted to know about Zeke’s pet.</p><p>“Okay, follow me, but we have to be quick.” She grabbed his hand and pulled him along behind her, up the secret way to the rooftop she had discovered years ago, until eventually, they arrived. The view over Alba Cavanich was something to behold – though the smoke didn’t appeal too much, it was still a mechanical wonderland, and everytime Mòrag came up here she felt a certain sense of pride. Zeke looked out with awe.</p><p>“This is like, mega-cool, Mòrag. It’s the total opposite to my titan though. That’s all cold and icy, it’s so hot here! What do all those towers do?” He pointed over to the geothermal towers.</p><p>“Oh, they’re the geothermal towers. They produce our energy. The titan is dying and releasing heat, so we use it to make energy. It’s really fascinating technology, but it’s not good that the titan is dying I think.”</p><p>“Ooh, that’s rough. Old Genbu isn’t doing too good either – that’s the name of my titan – but it’s weird how they both go different ways when they’re suffering, isn’t it?”</p><p>“It is, yes. Anyway, your pet?” Concerned someone would come after them if they spent too long out of the view of guards, she hurried him along.</p><p>“Oh yeah, right, sorry. Prepare to meet my trusty companion, the true hero Alrest needs, the legend himself… TURTERS, reveal yourself!” And just like that, from his pocket he whipped out a small turtle, who looked rather perturbed by all the going ons around him and like he would much rather return to his shell. Mòrag could relate to that.</p><p>“You have a… turtle?”</p><p>“Not just any turtle, Mòrag, the legendary turtle hero, saviour of Alrest!”</p><p>“But… how is he going to save Alrest, he’s a turtle?” That got Zeke to stop and think for a second. Normally, people just accepted what he said – he was a prince, after all, it generally wasn’t worth the risk to life and limb to question them – but he realised he wasn’t quite sure how Turters fit into the saving Alrest plan. Regardless though, he knew that somehow, Turters was indeed the key.</p><p>“I’m… not sure yet. But he will serve his place and fulfil his destiny, mark my words Mòrag!” Mòrag looked dubiously at him, not quite sure what to make of it all. But hey, some kids didn’t think about their future or royal destinies as much as she did, apparently. It would be nice to be able to focus on a pet turtle all day, rather than her studies and training, she supposed.</p><p>“Hm. If you say so. Anyway, we have to get back, they’ll come looking for us soon and I don’t want to get in trouble on account of your turtle, so follow me!” She tugged on his arm and pulled him back downstairs, to show around more of the castle. Making sure to gently tuck Turters back into his pocket, Zeke ran after her, yelling claims about ‘we must explore the unknown zone of the castle!’ and ‘it is time for the great zekenator, the coolest guy around, and Mòrag, the coolest girl, to go on an adventure!’.</p><p>Sure, he was an idiot, but he seemed nice at least.</p><hr/><p>The rest of the day was spent in much of a similar fashion, the pair walking around and chatting and Mòrag wondering how exactly Zeke had such a vivid imagination as to dream up all these elaborate scenarios he suggested he would face once older. Eventually, they ended up on the training ground: although Mòrag was still too young to do any official training, she insisted on learning at least some swordfighting basics, and had eventually found an obliging tutor. She took two wooden swords and held one out to Zeke, interested to see how he would react. With a spark in his eyes and a smile on his face, he grabbed it off her and ran to take up another impractical, overdramatic position.</p><p>“The Zekenator is ready to do battle with the fair Lady Mòrag!”</p><p>“Don’t call me that title, I hate it. Do you even know how to fight?”</p><p>He shuffled awkwardly, looking down for a second. Ah, so not really. She had the advantage for once… but it wouldn’t be a fair fight if she had training and he had none.</p><p>“Look, Zeke… do you want me to show you how to start? I haven’t done loads myself, but I might be able to show you something?”</p><p>His eyes lit up, “That would be so cool, thank you!”</p><p>And the afternoon resumed with Mòrag making an attempt to teach Zeke some of her very limited swordfighting skills. One day, she would be a master swordswoman and wield the imperial whipswords, but first, she had to train at her craft. As they took a break, Zeke brought Lady Brighid up.</p><p>“So, who was that lady in the painting, with the cool whipswords of fire? I bet she is mega-super-extra powerful, right?” Mòrag turned her head to face him, a small smile on her face.</p><p>“That’s Lady Brighid. She’s one of the imperial heirlooms, along with Aegaeon. They’re the blades of the royal family, but she hasn’t been resonated with successfully in a while – she’s very powerful, and requires a driver of a certain strength and character, the Emperor says. One day, I want to be good enough as a fighter to be her driver. Once I am sixteen years old, I will be permitted to attempt to resonate with her, if I have proven driver aptitude at that point.”</p><p>Zeke smiled, nodding along as she spoke. “Wow! That’s awesome, Mòrag. If you resonate with her, can I come and meet her? I want to see her hair, it’s on fire, I need to learn how to do that as well so I can be even more awesome.”</p><p>“Sure.” It was actually quite nice, for someone else to be as excited about Lady Brighid’s awakening as she was. Because she would awaken her. She had to.</p><p>“Ah! Lady Mòrag! Prince Ozychlyrus! There you are!” A guard came running up to them, out of breath. He bowed, before poining towards the exit. “His Majesties the Emperor Ailean and King Eulogeminos request your presence at once for a royal decree, you must follow me!” The pair put their swords away quickly, and dutifully followed.</p><hr/><p>Stood in the ceremonial chamber, there was an atmosphere that seemed both tense yet cautiously optimistic. As Mòrag and Zeke stood with the representatives of their respective Kingdoms, by their paternal figures, the buzz of chatter that always preceded an important announcement began. Usually, Mòrag would listen halfheartedly, but wasn’t too interested in the outcome of the speeches – she was only seven, after all, and sometimes the words they used confused her. But she got the sense that this was different, that she needed to be paying attention. Uncle Ailean stepped forward and began with all the normal formalities that came before any significant agreement, then paused as King Eulogeminos stepped forward to be beside him, before continuing.</p><p>“As you may be aware, both our nations are struggling with the declines of our titans. With the support of the Tantalese nation, we wish to form an alliance between our two countries in the search for new land to support both our populations, in the hopes of assuring the mutual futures of our two nations. Now, more than ever, we must not stand divided – we must find support in one another. However, given the nature of the Tantalese titan, Genbu, being submerged within the Cloud Sea, the affirmation of this new alliance cannot be assured by shared territories, as the Genbu titan is regularly inaccessible. Thus, we have come to an agreement to bind our nations through matrimony between the two houses. Thus, his highness the Crown Prince Ozychlyrus Brounev Tantal and her highness the Lady Mòrag Ladair shall be betrothed to one another from this day, to be married upon Lady Mòrag reaching the age of 26. This betrothment will assure the ties between our two nations, in the joint future of both our nations, and shall ensure future success and prosperity for us all.”</p><p>Mòrag turned to Zeke, who looked just as blindsided as she was about this, as the two leaders shook hands and applauded. Neither knew what to say or think, totally thrown by this announcement. A certain sense of dread filled the pit of Mòrag’s stomach – whilst Zeke was a bit over the top, he seemed nice enough, and she liked the idea of a friend but a husband? At least it wasn’t for a long time. Maybe things would change by then! Still, something about this felt not right to her – not least the fact her life had basically been decided for her once again. She supposed she should be used to that by now, though – it was a fairly recurring theme of her existence at this point. But… at least Zeke was fun. And they could become friends, with time? Either way, she knew this wouldn’t be the last time she saw the slightly odd boy with the glasses.</p><p>Perhaps she would be seeing Turters again sooner than she expected.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Her Smile</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Reuniting three years after their engagement, Zeke realises a lot has changed for Morag, whilst Morag contemplates the difficult circumstances she is in.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hello! Thank you for the lovely response to the last chapter, it was very kind. Here is the next chapter! If you enjoy, please remember to leave a comment and kudos - I will try and get the next chapter to you soon!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It had been a couple of years since Zeke had last visited Mor Ardain, only to discover his father had made arrangements behind his back for his bethrothal to Princess Mòrag of Mor Ardain. No, wait, Lady Mòrag – she would probably punch him if he called her that, and as funny as it was to provoke her ire, Zeke was also very aware that she had both combat training and the ability to potentially smash his glasses. Although from what he had heard, she had become much more subdued over the past couple of years, particularly after the passing of Lady Eilidh in childbirth. He had been at the funeral, but it had been only a passing visit, and he hadn’t had chance to catch up with Mòrag, but this time round he was there for some sort of diplomatic visit. His old man wasn’t coming this time – he rarely ever left the palace anymore, let alone the Titan – but Zeke had insisted on accompanying his advisor to the negotiations at hand. Though Tantal was becoming more and more isolationist as the years passed, Zeke was feeling the growing urge to rebel and escape his father. He assumed he was sent along partly as a reminder of the bethrothal and the agreements between Tantal and Mor Ardain, but he also suspected it was his father’s way of removing the palace nuisance for a little while and giving Zeke a chance to spread his wings under monitored circumstances. Ah well, he’ll take it for now – better than being locked up in the stuffy old Palace with no one his age for company, perhaps Mòrag would be down for a sword fight.</p><p>The grand entrance to Hardhaigh palace loomed over the Tantalese delegation, as Zeke looked up to the turrets to remember where he had revealed Turters to Mòrag. The old boy was still hanging around, hiding in his pocket – he was arguably the only true, steady friend Zeke had right now, and that in itself was a pretty sad fact of his existence. Most eleven year olds were out playing – Lord knows he’d passed many groups of children on his escort through the town centre, desperate to join their escapades – but not Zeke, no, it was all about princely lessons and understanding the correct princely conduct and princely diplomacy. All useful life skills for someone of his position, but not of any interest to a young boy on the cusp of his adolescence who wanted nothing more than to set out on adventures with his trusty turtle-sidekick.</p><p>As they arrived in the throne room, Zeke took a moment to stare around. Majestic as ever, the Ardainian patriotism was something to be admired, and reflected in the intricate designs around the room. At the end of the room, Zeke spotted Emperor Ailean sat upon the throne, with Aegaeon to one side and to his left, Mòrag with a small boy clasping her hand. Despite the marked differences in their appearance – Niall’s blue hair and eyes, compared to Mòrag’s black hair and golden eyes – and the significant age gap, they still appeared to share some resemblance in their face shapes. However, though Mòrag stood tall and firm, with an almost militaristic stance bar the hand holding Niall’s, the toddler was clearly wriggling and fidgeting around. Heh, there was something undeniably entertaining about witnessing the future Emperor of one of the largest Empires in all of Alrest wanting nothing more than to go play with some building blocks or something like that.</p><p>They reached the front of the throne room and kneeled before the Emperor, who shakily rose from his chair, very unlike what Zeke had seen before. He then realised the reason Mòrag was holding Niall’s hand, rather than Niall’s father – Emperor Ailean was heavily leaning on a cane for support, struggling to stand as strong and firm as he once did. He nodded and greeted the Tantalese delegation, but there was an infirmity to his voice that had previously not been there, and perhaps that explained why Mòrag appeared far more stoic than he had when he had initially been there. Though it may also be the whole arranged marriage thing – she didn’t seem particularly impressed when it was first announced, and no doubt with a couple of years to stew over it she wouldn’t have improved her opinions on the matter. Well, at least that was something Zeke could relate to – hopefully, he would get chance to speak to her, after all the formalities were over and when they had some time to themselves. Besides, it would be nice to catch up. Though he looked over at her, it seemed Mòrag was almost totally uninterested in his presence. Zeke thought that was a bit odd, but put it down to the stress of the whole event and decided to wait until all the main formalities were over, for when Mòrag wouldn’t be attached at the hip to her baby brother, to have a chat.</p><p>As it turned out, this was not as easy as it initially sounded.</p><hr/><p>“Mòrag! Lady Mòrag!” Walking down the corridor with Niall held on her hip, Mòrag turned around to the call of her name. Not wanting to delay her brother from his nap – the upheaval and temporary return to Mor Ardain had already caused enough issues with his sleep schedule, and consequently his toddler tantrums – she prayed it was only a brief encounter and that she could continue on her way quickly. Alas, this was not the case, for running up to her was none other than the Prince of Tantal and her bethrothed. She could really do without being interrupted by one of the chattiest people she had ever met right now, and frankly she was not in much of a conversational mood as it was anyway. She rarely was, these days.</p><p>“Prince Ozychlyrus. It is good to see you again. Was there something you wanted to ask me specifically?” She didn’t intend for the words to come across as coldly as they did, but her impatience unintentionally shone through. Thankfully, Zeke seemed largely oblivious to the subtle nuances of her speech.</p><p>“You know it’s Zeke to you, Mòrag! Or the Zekenator, I’ve been thinking about adopting a new title for when I become the strongest warrior in all of Tantal and that seems super-mega-awesome! There’s a couple of alternatives too, like-” He paused at her frown, and stopped his ramblings, “But anyway, I was thinking we should catch up, you know? Have a little chin wag, see how everything’s going, maybe go for a spar or two. I’m here for a few days and thought it would be a great opportunity to get to know each other a bit better, given the whole craziness last time and the whole future wedding thing.” At the mention of the wedding, Mòrag’s look soured, and Zeke realised he had once again put his foot in it. Ah. He had a bit of an unfortunate habit of doing that.</p><p>“As much as the idea of idle chat may appeal, I am afraid I am busy at the moment – I need to return Niall to his chambers, then continue with my studies and training. You are welcome to explore the grounds however.” The trained steadiness in her voice was useful for moments like these, when a combination of general irritability that surrounded many of her encounters recently plus the horrors of incoming teenage hormones made the prospect of snapping very tempting. Undeterred, Zeke bounded alongside her as she continued her path towards Niall’s room.</p><p>“Not to worry! How about you drop Niall off, then I’m sure you could take a break from your studies for a day or two, right?” His unwavering optimism was naïve at best, but Mòrag sighed, well aware that Zeke was not going to give up without a fight. Though she had very little interest in talking to Zeke right now – the last thing she wanted to think about was the thought of the wedding that kept her up at night, dwelling upon – he had not done anything wrong to deserve her ire, really. So she stopped momentarily, and turned to him.</p><p>“Okay. I do need to study and train, but if you come to the training ground in three hours, we can spar there and talk afterwards. Does that suit you?” Zeke noticed she was a lot more solemn now than in their last encounter, and lacked a certain quiet element of fun she had had before. Though given the death of her adoptive mother, and the sickness of the Emperor, it was no surprise that the young girl looked like she had the weight of the world on her shoulders. One thing was for certain – Mòrag looked like she needed a good cheer up, and Zeke knew he was the individual suited to the job. He grinned and gave her a wide grin in response, hoping to elicit something resembling a smile from her, but nothing was forthcoming, so he bounded off down the hall whilst Mòrag resumed carrying Niall to his nap. Architect, she wasn’t looking forward to how grumpy the toddler Prince would be when he woke up.</p><hr/><p>When she arrived at the training ground, Mòrag was surprised to see Zeke already there, a training broadsword in hand. She favoured lighter weapons – a katana was her current sword of choice, but she was preparing for the day when she would be accepted to attempt to awaken Lady Brighid and wield the dual whipswords. The Ardainian army had nothing close to them for her to prepare with, so for now she made do with what she had – besides, many blades wielded katanas, like Aegaeon, and if she was unsuccessful with Brighid, perhaps she would need the skills of katana wielding for another blade.</p><p>“Look, Mòrag! I’ve been training more since we last met, I’ll be a much better opponent this time!” Ah, so that was why Zeke was so eager to spar earlier. Well, she couldn’t say no to an opponent – her teacher refused to let her spar with the Ardainian army cadets, even though she knew she stood a good chance against most recruits, and she was very limited in fighting someone who was skilled enough to easily block all her strikes without any need to go all out. It got boring quick – at least Zeke would be a fun change.</p><p>“Very good. Let me get my weapon, then I will be with you.” Outside, moving around, doing something she enjoyed – this was probably the happiest she could be at the moment, what with everything going on around her. The pressure of being the oldest child in the royal family, in a situation where uncle Ailean only seemed to be getting progressively more sick with no signs of let up, was really getting to her. Letting off some steam actually wasn’t a bad idea at all. She picked up a katana, then took up her battle stance, watching as Zeke lifted his oversized great sword and… attempted to spin it around over his head? She thought he looked like a fool, but waited anyway as his hands stumbled and he dropped the sword, the broad end banging his foot in the process. He yelled out in pain, hopping around whilst holding his foot. Though she retained her battle stance, Mòrag couldn’t help but let out a small giggle, before reprimanding him: “Antics like that won’t serve you well in the battlefield, Zeke.”</p><p>“But it did look pretty epic, right?”</p><p>“… If you say so.”</p><p>Having recovered both his pride and feeling in his foot, he leant down to grab the sword. As he looked up, he noticed the smallest smile on Mòrag’s face, though she quickly covered it with her serious demeanour. It was only a flash, but Zeke thought it looked quite cute on her face. Wait, cute? The Zekenator did not have time for such petty matters as pretty girls when he was training to become the ultimate greatest warrior and driver that Alrest had ever seen! Still, he could feel his cheeks warm up just a bit, as he took a proper battle stance. This was probably more like what his father had imagined when Zeke insisted he train him in the arts of battle after their last visit to Mor Ardain.</p><p>“Alright then, Mòrag, come at me!” He lifted his sword and ran towards her, yelling some daft battle cry as he did so. Mòrag rolled her eyes as she sidestepped every strike he attempted to make, then to add insult to injury she stuck her foot out and tripped him over. Not very honourable fighting, perhaps, but Zeke blindly waving a sword around wasn’t much better really. He tripped, fell flat onto his face and dropped his sword in the process. As she walked up to her victim, she felt a small sense of satisfaction in her chest – though he had significantly improved since their last encounter, she was still much more agile than him and better trained. But his style did have something to it – his strikes, though slower and less sharp than hers, had a brute strength behind them that she did not possess. Perhaps, with a bit more time and training, he would build up to be a fine warrior. He got up slowly, brushing the dust out of his face, before grinning and pulling his sword up. “Again! That was fantastic! All good warriors fall many times before rising to their true strength, this is just the beginning!”</p><p>Well, he could believe whatever he wanted. A distraction from all the pressures in her life at the moment would be a welcome distraction. She took stance again, anticipating him to be highly predictable once more.</p><p>She was not disappointed.</p><hr/><p>From his window, Emperor Ailean Ardanach watched down on his adoptive daughter strike blows at the young Prince Ozychlyrus. Though she would never admit to it, he could see that she was enjoying herself for the first time in a long while. Though she was incredibly dedicated to her education, formal training and most of all, caring for her brother, Ailean wished to see her enjoy being a child too. Yet she seemed the type to take every issue in the world as one she could solve alone, and in that, she took after her father, his late brother. She was the spitting image of her mother, though: Ailean knew she would grow up to be a beautiful, confident woman, and only wished he could be around to see her thrive. Yet he was constrained by the horrible turns of fate, and knew he was not long for the world – the best he could do was raise her for as long as he could, and ensure her happiness both now and for the future. Though she was horrified at the prospect of wedding the Prince Ozychlyrus, Ailean could see the boy was a genuinely kind individual. Being next in line to the throne after Niall, Mòrag could be viewed by others as a beneficial bargaining chip – he feared for the day that he could not protect Mòrag, and felt a duty to ensure her happiness in the future. She may never love Ozychlyrus in the way one would normally love a spouse, but if he could at least be a friend, that was better than her being forced into a manipulative marriage with a cruel man, or one of the greedy senators attempting to gain power. Ailean could see that the young Prince would be kind to her at least, and be her friend – and for someone with as few friends and many enemies as Mòrag was likely to have in her future, this was at least one way he could ensure her further happiness. Turning back to his paperwork, he sighed at the mounting pile. Perhaps his illness wouldn’t get the chance to take him, if he drowned in the ever-growing piles of paper first.</p><hr/><p>Mòrag and Zeke finished sparring – or, in Zeke’s case, attempting to show off his stunts and usually ending with them going somewhat wrong – and returned to Zeke’s room. Though Mòrag was not super talkative, she was a little bit more chatty than before, having opened up a little during the course of their spar. It gave them a common topic to discuss, of course – and Mòrag seemed to get a certain sense of satisfaction in explaining to Zeke all the ways he could improve his technique and form, whilst Zeke animatedly described all his ideas for future swordplay stunts. Arriving at his door, Zeke stepped in and invited her inside. Mòrag hesitated – she knew she had studying to do, and didn’t want to get behind and disappoint someone, but it was so rare that she ever got to speak to someone her age these days and just relax, a part of her didn’t want that to end. Resolving to make it a short catch up, she stepped in and sat on one of the chairs in his room, whilst Zeke leapt onto the bed.</p><p>“I’ve never felt beds so… squishy before! They’re nowhere near this fancy back home in Tantal.” It was the small things that pleased some people, she supposed, not that she really had time to enjoy those kind of things now anyway. Too many things demanded her attention. As she continued pondering, a frown grew on her face, which Zeke noticed. “Hey, Mòrag, how come you look so glum?”</p><p>Though she was absorbed in her own stresses, she didn’t want to bring anyone else down, much less the chirpy prince of Tantal. “Oh, it’s nothing, do not worry.”</p><p>“But you’ve seemed off since I arrived. You’re much quieter than last time, and you seem really down. The Zekenator is a King at cheering sad people up, but it doesn’t seem to be working so well today, so I must try extra hard!”</p><p>“Thank you, but it’s not something you can sort. My uncle grows ever more ill by the day, and Niall is only a babe, really, so if my uncle dies, I will have to act in power until Niall is old enough to do so. I feel like I hardly know how to rule – I’m still in my own education as it is, and my ten years of experience in the world hardly seem enough preparation to deal with all this, yet here I am in a position where it looks every day more likely I will need to act as consort very soon.” She paused, considering how to phrase her next few words. “Selfishly, I’m scared of taking on this responsibility and duty. Mor Ardain means everything to me, but the thought of being in power and control over so much just seems like too much for one girl to handle, and it’s not like I have anyone to look to for help. My parents are dead, my adoptive mother is dead, and soon my adoptive father too. I am all Niall has, and it’s not even like I will immediately have the imperial blades to support me. So everyday, I try to learn more and train more, but it never feels like enough, and I’m worried that one day soon I will be in charge and it won’t be enough, and then what?”</p><p>Zeke looked at her, slightly stunned at Mòrag’s rant. He didn’t think she had ever said that much to him in one go ever before, and quite honestly, he didn’t know what he could say to help. He was lucky that his father was in good health, and taking charge of Tantal seemed like a far off thought that he didn’t even consider now. Mòrag was younger than him, yet seemed years more mature than he was – but she was still only a child, and he knew it seemed like too much to ask of any adult, let alone a ten year old girl. She watched him remain silent, then looked down at her hands, seeming to quickly retreat into her shell as the silence prolonged.</p><p>“I-I’m sorry, forget I said all that, I don’t know what I was thinking-” She was cut off mid-sentence as he got off the bed and grabbed her hand, sitting in the chair across from her.</p><p>“Mòrag, you’re the most prepared person I have ever met for taking on something like this, but you won’t have to take it all on yourself. The Emperor has advisers, right? So I’m sure they can shoulder a majority of the burden, and the Council can too. Yeah, you will probably have to be more involved than you are now, but they’re going to help you with it and I reckon they’ll want to ease your burden as much as possible. And if you ever want to chat with someone, I’ll be your friend! I know Genbu is far away, but we can always write letters to each other, and I can tell you all about my awesome tricks, plus I’m sure father will let me come and visit from time to time.” Slowly, her head moved up to look at his earnest face. The sincerity of his words was undeniable – whilst he didn’t take into account the corruption she was gradually becoming aware of throughout politics, he still meant well, and she appreciated that. A small smile grew on her face as she nodded. Yes, a friend would be nice – she didn’t really have any of them yet, and given one day she was going to have to marry Zeke, being his friend wouldn’t be a bad start.</p><p>“Yes. I think I’d like that. Thank you Zeke.”</p><p>For a brief moment, the constant buzz in her mind seemed to settle, as she smiled at her friend. Zeke, on the other hand, smiled back at her – but in his brain, all kinds of sparks were flying off. He really liked making her smile, and it made his chest do these little flipping things, and he didn’t quite know what that meant but as long as she was happy, that was all that mattered right then.</p><p>Addressing any other feelings could come later.</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Next chapter: awkward 14/15 year olds, all the teen angst, and the gay begins... ;)</p><p>If you like, please leave a comment and kudos, it really makes my day!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Oblivious</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Zeke attempts to break and enter. Morag has a realisation. Both are oblivious teens.</p><p>Morag is 14, Zeke is 15 in this one, and it's just before Zeke is kicked out of Tantal, canon-wise.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hello! Where have I been, good question? A combination of Uni work, Strictly Come Dancing final, family birthdays and Christmas have meant I just haven't had chance to get round to writing this until now. Also, I was procrastinating, but that's beside the point. I hope you enjoy this installment, hopefully there will be a shorter gap between this and the next one, and if you like it, please leave kudos and a comment - it really makes my day!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Zeke would be in so much shit with his old man when he returned. Somehow, he had managed to escape the city at night, convince the crew of one of the titan ships to let him commandeer it in the name of Tantal, and had arrived in Mor Ardain. However, he was bored and 15 years old, so frankly it seemed like a perfectly logical course of events. It wasn’t the first time he had snuck out and left the Titan, and his father’s patience was quickly wearing thin. It was a bit late to return before his father noticed now, however, so he might as well enjoy a break from the isolation of Tantal. Besides, he had his broadsword with him, so hopefully he could try and help some people out whilst visiting. Zeke’s growing awareness of Tantal’s isolationism had been a source of much conflict between him and his father recently – his father insisted on maintaining isolation as far as possible no matter the cost, and Zeke knew he couldn’t just sit back and let Alrest go to shit and not do anything about it. He had been thinking and training, and this was just another expedition to learn more about the world so when he finally became a driver, he could really change the world. Besides, he knew that the one other person who would want to change the world for the better was right here in Mor Ardain. And given it was the middle of the night, he was about 80% sure this was her room, so he decided to take his chances and throw a pebble up at the window.</p><p>Hm. No response. He threw another. Then a third, for good measure.</p><p>Finally, the windows cracked open, and in the darkness Zeke spotted exactly the person he wanted to see. An irritated looking Mòrag, hair dishevelled from sleep, sleepily blinking as she stared around before spotting him.</p><p>“Zeke! What the hell are you doing here?” She hissed down at him, looking highly unimpressed at his arrival. Huh, her loss.</p><p>“It’s a long story, can you get me in please?”</p><p>“Seriously?! It’s two AM, I have to be up in four hours! And please be quiet, Niall is asleep nearby and if you wake him up, or anyone finds out you’re here, it is NOT worth the hell the press will put me through.”</p><p>“… So is that a yes?”</p><p>Despite her slightly murderous look, and the eye roll, she groaned, “Fine, but you owe me big time and there better be a damn good reason for this.” She pointed towards a pipe not too far away, “Over there is a secret entrance, wait there and I’ll let you in.” The next thing she knew, he was off like a shot. Turning around back to her room, she located some shoes and a dressing gown, before peeking her head out of the door to check for guards. None. Good for now, although fairly remiss for there to be no one patrolling this corridor at any time when it was the sleeping chambers of the royal family – perhaps she would mention it in her next report, though the inadequacy of the Ardainian military was something she was unfortunately becoming accustomed to. Trying to be as quiet as possible, she snuck around the corridors until she reached the secret entrance. The fewer people who saw her or Zeke, the better – meant less rumours getting around – but she knew there would be guards stationed at the hidden entrance. She could only hope for them to maintain their secrecy about the affair until she found a proper excuse for his presence – and frankly, her brain was too tired right now to be considering that. Having quietly explained to the guards on duty her situation, they nodded and let Zeke in. She thought it somewhat remiss they did not even pat him down to check for weapons, but that was another thing she would add to her reports – perhaps one day, she would even be able to attempt to implement these changes and transform the Ardainian military into something semi-competent. A girl could only dream, after all.</p><p>Gripping Zeke’s hand in an iron first, she dragged him through the corridors, looking none too impressed to see him. He was disappointed – it had been a couple of years since they had last met in person, though they had kept in much more frequent contact in letters now. If he could, he would have come to visit more, but the Tantalese refused to accept guests and did not embrace leaving their own titan either, and he was constrained by his father’s expectations.</p><p>It hadn’t been obvious from the window, but Zeke quickly became very aware of the fact that Mòrag had shot up in height since he had last seen her. Before, they had been mostly even heights – but whilst he had yet to grow much taller than before, instead facing the horrors of voice-breaking, she was looking… grown up, in many senses. Crap. Zeke did not fancy a slap from Mòrag right now, and knew that a tired, grumpy Mòrag quite possibly could do that, so he tried to think of anything but the fact she towered over him and was very, very pretty in order to save his own skin. Though this may be more difficult given his initial plan was ‘Crash on Mòrag’s floor then work out what to do tomorrow morning.’ But the great Zekenator had faced many trials in his time, and this was just another, more personal one.</p><p>“Look, can I just… crash here tonight? I promise I’ll be out of your hair by tomorrow.”</p><p>“Zeke, again, what the hell are you doing? You know I can’t be seen with anyone in my room, how would I explain that to the guards?” Mòrag looked even more frustrated as she hissed, “Where are you meant to be staying? The Tantal delegation aren’t due here for months!”</p><p>“…Yeah, this isn’t exactly an… official visit. More a fun one. That Dad may or may not know about. To see a friend though! It’s been a long time since we last caught up, anyway, and there’s loads of stuff to do around Mor Ardain when there’s nothing in Tantal. Besides, Turters wanted to come and say hello!” In a last ditch attempt at reducing Mòrag’s growing ire, he brought out his mascot and constant companion. She responded with a silent, yet judgemental eyeroll, seemingly not as impressed at Turters as she had been a few years ago, and yet…</p><p>“For the love of the Architect, Zeke, you can’t just go sneaking into imperial palaces at night, what are people going to think? Fine, you can stay tonight, but you need to get a room at the inn tomorrow night, and if your father asks where you are, that is solely your responsibility.” Moving to her bed, Mòrag tossed a couple of blankets and pillows onto the floor – typically, she would have taken far greater care to make sure they were neat, but Mòrag in the middle of the night when she had no intention of waking up had little energy to care for such things. Then, in what Zeke thought was a highly uncharacteristic move for Mòrag, she flopped onto her bed.</p><p>“Now good NIGHT, Zeke, and I swear to Architect if this causes a controversy I expect YOU to sort it out.” And with that, she was out like a light.</p><p>Huh. That was actually… easier than Zeke expected. Despite Mòrag’s initial hostility at being awoken at an ungodly hour, she had given up with her questioning for now – no doubt to continue tomorrow morning – and allowed him to crash on her floor. Despite their totally opposite personalities, maybe she really did consider him a friend? Grinning at the thought, Zeke dozed off, Turters residing on his chest as he did so.</p><hr/><p>As befit her clockwork routine, Mòrag awoke just after sunrise, feeling more groggy than normal. The cause of said grogginess lay at floor beyond her bed, quietly snoring. She still wasn’t much closer to working out why Zeke was here, what his plans were and what on Alrest she could do about it, but still. In spite of all that, she had to quietly admit it was nice to have some more company her own age. Sure, she adored Niall, but there were only so many conversations outside of their joint royal duties she could have with a six year old, as much as she doted on him. Normally, it was alright – they spent most of their time in Gormott, and she would sneak them both out to play in the woods. She had been secretly teaching him some very basic combat skills – sure, he was only little, but he was also the future emperor, and having some basic self-defence skills for someone in his position would always help. In return, he would rejoice when she would tell him stories: about the history of Alrest, of Mor Ardain, of the Royal Blades they would one day awaken. He particularly loved her stories of Brighid, jewel of the Empire, and they would often act them out for fun. But for now, they had been recalled to Mor Ardain – some sort of official business where the regent cabinet could not act alone, and required the presence of the two royal children, and thus they had been in Alba Cavanich for around a month. Mòrag had a sinking feeling that they had little time left of being able to act as siblings, being able to run in the Gormotti woods and escape the choking hold of the expectations of royalty, and knew to treasure the time she had together now. But for now, there was no point dwelling on it – it was time for her to go and train. She changed quickly, Zeke remaining passed out on her floor, and grabbed her dual swords. Though she had initially been using the katana, her fighting proficiency had grown, and she was now preparing for wielding Brighid’s dual swords. In a few years, she would finally have the chance to resonate with her, and she wanted to be as prepared as possible for that day. Scribbling out a quick note of explanation to Zeke, she hurried down to the training ground.</p><p>It was quiet, as was to be expected at this time of morning. Perfect. She began with some stretches, and did some warm up laps, appreciating the quiet before the storm. And with Zeke here, she knew it would be a storm of a day, one way or another. She was ready to start when a voice broke through the silence – by the Architect, was she not allowed a single moment of peace anymore?</p><p>“Looking good, Ladair. But air or the training dummy aren’t the kind of opponents you need.” She recognised that voice anywhere. Turning around slowly with a smile on her face, she saw her. Erica.</p><p>It had been a couple of weeks since Erica had arrived at the palace. The daughter of a Senator who was currently going through a somewhat messy divorce, it had been decided it was for the best that she reside in the palace on a temporary basis along with her father whilst her mother retained the house. Mòrag had heard rumours about it, but didn’t want to pry against Erica’s wishes, and Erica seemed reluctant to discuss it. Mòrag remembered though, when Erica had first arrived at the palace and she was there to greet her. Initially, the girl had looked somewhat downtrodden, unsurprisingly given the circumstances, but when her eyes met Mòrag’s, a smile lit up her face and she had waved at her.</p><p>Mòrag thought it was the prettiest thing she had ever seen.</p><p>The next day, as she had been going down to train, Erica had also come down at the same time, ostensibly to go for a walk though it seemed she enjoyed Mòrag’s company, the thought of which made Mòrag’s cheeks warm. Since then, they had trained together every morning – though Mòrag had faced far stronger opponents than Erica and succeeded, she chose to let the fights extend on and even let Erica win sometimes, if just to hear her giggle of triumph. Besides, any excuse to spend more time with a friend her own age was worth it – especially when a few strands of her auburn hair would fall out of her ponytail, or her face would scrunch in focus, and Mòrag would just die inside a little. She didn’t dare tell anyone about this friendship, though – something in her knew that if anyone discovered, the friendship wouldn’t last much longer. And besides, no one needed to know that the stern driver-in-training Lady Mòrag had a lighter side, it would do no good for her attempts at shedding the princess sterotype.</p><p>“But of course. Are you volunteering?” This was how their interactions always went, a little joking and teasing before starting the sparring, chatting as they fought. It was the highlight of Mòrag’s day, even if she didn’t know how long it would last.</p><p>“Indeed, my lady.” She bowed, in a mockery of archaic Ardainian fighting tradition – normally, Mòrag would not permit any mockery of her homeland, but she giggled as she took up stance.</p><p>“Let us begin!”</p><p>And so the sparring began. Though with a katana Mòrag was easily the most proficient, her new dual swords provided a different kind of challenge – monitoring where each sword was at a time, utilising them for both defence and offense. Erica had taken the standard military issued katana – technically, as both girls were only fourteen years old, they weren’t really permitted usage of weaponry, training or not, outside of military supervision, but few people would be prepared to scold the Emperor’s sister, and thus anyone with her gained equal immunity. Besides, no one was around at this time anyway. Mòrag parried as Erica struck a blow, but shook a bit from the behind it. Erica’s fighting style was somewhat reminiscent of Zeke’s, in that manner -  very hard hitting blows, but little technique or tidiness behind them, normally easy to dodge or block. Apparently, though, Erica had learnt from previous encounters – noting the moment of weakness, she kicked Mòrag’s foot from under her, toppling Mòrag to the floor. As Mòrag landed on her back, Erica straddled her to keep her pinned down, knocking her dual swords out of the way in the progress.</p><p>“Gotcha! Another win for me, huh?” Erica grinned as she straddled Mòrag’s lap, as Mòrag looked up at her. She could very quickly feel her cheeks becoming warm and her eyes widening. Erica’s face was mere inches from hers, and oh Architect, she had totally forgotten how to have any sort of comprehensive thought and all she could think about was how pretty Erica looked right now and how lovely her lips were and how much she would absolutely not mind if she came closer and-</p><p>It seemed Erica had the same realisation, briefly glancing down to Mòrag’s lips, then at her eyes, and Architect save her soul she didn’t know how to think anymore, they both started to lean in a bit and she wasn’t sure if breathing was something she should be doing but she didn’t think she knew how anymore and-</p><p>“Morning, ladies. Mòrag, I thought I’d find you down here! Do you ever have a day off sparring?” The pair quickly sprung apart at the unfamiliar voice, Mòrag silently raining all the curses from Morytha below upon Zeke for the untimely interruption. Of course, she knew exactly who that was – blasts, how could she have forgotten Zeke? Erica and her shared a look for a second, making a silent agreement not to discuss what just happened in front of anyone else, most especially someone famed for not being able to keep his big mouth shut. Thankfully, Zeke seemed totally oblivious as to what he just walked in on, most likely distracted by Turters nibbling his jacket.</p><p>“Prince Ozychlyrus, my apologies, I did not realise you were present at the palace!”  Erica curtsied, then shot a suspicious look at Mòrag, who shrugged.</p><p>“Oh yeah, I was crashing on Mòrag’s floor last night. And don’t worry about all the formalities, it’s just us three here, call me Zeke. To whom do I owe the honour?” Completely oblivious to the tension in the room, Zeke grinned as he chatted away with the pair.</p><p>“My name is Erica, your grace. I am a companion of the Lady Mòrag.”</p><p>“A companion, huh? And sparring partner too. Well, what a lovely name for such a lovely lady. I’d jolly love a good spar at some point with you, Erica – Mòrag normally wipes the floor with me. How does that sound?” Though Zeke’s request was mostly innocuous, with perhaps an element of flirting in it, Mòrag felt a quiet spike of rage inside at his request. They had just been- and now Zeke wanted to take her sparring partner? She couldn’t control Erica, of course, but a small part of her desperately wished that Erica would say no – she didn’t understand why, but something in her wanted to keep Erica for herself.</p><p>“I would be honoured, your grace, but another day, perhaps – I need to speak to Lady Mòrag about something right now, then I have my own duties to attend to.”</p><p>“Girls talk, eh? Fair enough. I’ll see you both later, then – I’m going to go for a wander round Alba Cavanich and see if I can’t find somewhere to sleep tonight. Me and Turters have got to work on an epic routine, anyway, and I probably shouldn’t be caught round the palace in case Dad finds out. Ah well, he’ll probably kill me for this escapade anyway. Mòrag, I’ll pop in to say goodbye before I go later, yeah?” And just like that, he turned on his heel and left, seemingly unfazed by the rejection. To have Zeke’s brazen confidence and lack of self-awareness was something Mòrag almost admired – he was quite unique, in that regard. And so again, she was left alone with Erica, who looked less than pleased after Zeke’s interruption. Mòrag imagined she didn’t look that dissimilar.</p><p>“So THAT’S the great prince of Tantal, your fiancé… is he always that bullheaded?” Unable to stop a laugh escaping, Mòrag moved closer to Erica, who, whilst grinning, still had a somewhat troubled look in her eyes.</p><p>“What’s wrong? Is it something he said?”</p><p>Erica shook her head, “No, no, it’s nothing to do with that, it’s just… he’s your fiancé, Mòrag. Do you like him?”</p><p>“As a friend, of course, even if he drives me up the wall in most interactions we have. But he’s a good person at heart, I think.”</p><p>Again, Erica shook her head. “No, not that. As in, a romantic thing?”</p><p>Mòrag had never been so quick to reply in her life, “Oh, Architect, no. He’s a friend, but nothing more, and we had no say in the engagement. Right now, I think he’s just trying to become better friends so we can tolerate each other when we’re older. He does idiotic things, yes, but I think he’s a good person at heart – but no, I don’t have any feelings for him, if that’s what you’re wondering.”</p><p>A small smile came across Erica’s face, and she leaned in closer, and once again Mòrag could feel her heart beating so hard she thought it might beat out of her chest. “Good.” And before Mòrag was really aware of what was going on, she felt soft lips upon her own, and a warm hand on the side of her face. It was quick, and awkward and a bit messy, but it was perfect in its own little way. As Erica pulled away, both girls blushed heavily whilst grinning, and Mòrag reached out to take Erica’s hand. Though her logical brain screamed at her not to get attached, that she could be whizzed away to Gormott any day now, that Erica was unlikely to be at the palace much longer, that she was very publicly engaged, that she had a responsibility to her country, nothing felt more right than Erica’s fingers intertwining with hers.</p><hr/><p>Though Zeke was totally oblivious to the events prior to his arrival, he was not totally blind. When he had proposed fighting with Erica, he had seen Mòrag’s face suddenly turn sour at the suggestion. Initially, he was confused, but as he discussed it with Turters on their journey – though it was more of a one-way discussion, really – it hit him that Mòrag must be jealous! That he was wanting to fight with Erica, and not her! Which must then mean… did she have feelings for him? The girl he had kind-of, maybe, potentially had a little crush on since they were kids – was she finally showing signs of liking him back? Because she was JEALOUS of him spending time with another girl? It baffled Zeke somewhat, but he had heard that girls were confusing – and this was Mòrag he was talking about, so perhaps an offer to spar was tantamount to a declaration of love in her mind, or something. He didn’t really know. Besides, whilst Eurica was pretty, it wasn’t enough to deter him from his crush on Mòrag. “What do you think, Turters? Perhaps I should ask her on a date, at some point? It’s all very mixed signals, but I think she might like me, perhaps?” Unsurprisingly, Turter’s response wasn’t forthcoming. Regardless, Zeke resolved that on his next visit to Mor Ardain, he would ask Mòrag if she wanted to go on a date, not that he was particularly sure what that would entail – not more sparring, he hoped, though that seemed to be her main way of engaging with people. For now, he had adventures to go on, and angry fathers to run away from.</p><hr/><p>It was only later, when Mòrag was alone in her room, she had a moment of sudden realisation that perhaps should have been obvious earlier, but she was not known for being the most in tune with her emotions.</p><p>“Shit, I’m gay.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Go on baby gay Morag! (Lol I know the line is probably a bit out of character for her, but it was too perfect, I couldn't resist). Next chapter is the CULMINATION OF MONTHS OF THINKING, aka the idea in my head that started out this whole story, so expect that... sometime! (No promises because I will probably get distracted by Age of Calamity or something lol). Thank you for reading, please leave kudos and a comment - we will be seeing Brighid and Pandy soon, I promise! Also, apologies for any mistakes in this, my brain is currently a bit fried from dissertation research.</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I promise Brighid and Pandy will turn up soon enough! </p><p>Please leave comments and kudos.</p><p>Have a lovely day/evening/night!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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